To See the Thestrals
by Morgana5
Summary: Warning: contains major spoilers for book 5. tells how a few characters are affected by *someone's* death and how they come to terms with it. will have a few chapters.
1. Harry's Flight

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything else having to do with Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
A/N: First of all, this contains major spoilers for book five, so if you haven't finished it yet, I suggest you go no further. You have been warned. Okay, onward! This will have a few chapters, from the povs of people whom Sirius's death affected. So not just Harry. Please read and review!  
  
Harry threw his stuff down on his bed in his tiny room at Number 4, Privet Drive. Having said goodbye to Moody, Tonks, Lupin, Hermione and the Weasleys, he felt alone. Was he facing a summer like his last one? A part of him flared in anger as he realized he quite possibly was. But this anger died down quickly, as he realized that here, alone with the Dursleys, he at least didn't have to talk about Sirius. The Weasleys were bound to ask him questions, and staying at number 12, Grimmauld Place without Sirius seemed like too much to bear.  
  
Hedwig hooted softly in her cage. Crossing the room, Harry let her out, and she stepped onto his arm and nipped his shoulder in a comforting way. Her amber eyes were large and round, and though Harry highly doubted that it was possible, it seemed as though she understood him. Tears burned his eyes and he felt a lump in his throat. Determined not to cry, he bit his tongue, willing the tears to evaporate. He looked around his room for something, anything, to distract him. His eyes fell upon his Firebolt. Sirius never got to see him fly on it. . . .  
  
The tears finally did come, and Harry buried his face in Hedwig's snowy head. She clucked softly, moving her head and making her feathers tickle his nose. Harry jerked his head upward and smiled weakly and wetly at Hedwig.  
  
"No more long journeys to find him when he's in hiding. . . ." he whispered, thinking of all the letters he had written his godfather and all the letters he had gotten back. Sirius had always been a mixture of friend and father in those letters. Who would he write to now when he needed advice? Ron and Hermione couldn't understand what it was like to have Voldemort possessing you. Dumbledore could easily ignore him again, and he was busy anyway. All of the adults in the Order would only worry. Sirius never worried. He just went right to the heart of the problem and tried to fix it. He never cared about the danger, he would've done anything for James, and anything for Harry. . . .  
  
"Dumbledore's wrong", Harry thought furiously. "If I hadn't been such an idiot. . . If I'd listened to Sirius's advice and made Snape keep teaching me Occlumency. . . . If I'd just tried to empty my mind. . . .If I hadn't been such a naïve fool and gone haring off right into Voldemort's trap. . . .Sirius never would have come after me!" He finished angrily.  
  
As if she could read his mind, Hedwig hooted at him reproachfully.  
  
"It IS my fault!" he cried angrily, throwing a sock at her. She took off out the window and Harry slammed it, immediately regretting his anger. Now the only being in this house that could possibly understand what he was going through was gone. Not that it was saying much, if that creature was an owl. . .  
  
Sinking back down on his bed, Harry's thoughts turned to the thestrals. "I wish I could see them. . ." Hermione had said. "I'm sure you do," Harry thought dully. "I'm sure you'd love to watch the only person you have left in the world die." But Harry knew how she would respond to that. She'd tell him that she and Ron would always be there for him. But it wasn't the same. Sirius had been the closest thing he had to family. He would've been cleared if he was alive, Harry realized, and Harry could've gone to live with him. Now he was alone. Completely alone. There was no one to turn to when he felt lower than low. There was no hope anymore of ever leaving the Durselys, especially after what Dumbledore had told him. What was the point, Harry wondered, of fighting Voldemort anymore? He'd almost rather be the one to die. . . .after all, if what Luna Lovegood has said was true, he'd be reunited with Sirius and his parents if Voldemort finished him off.  
  
Harry wanted to sob, wanted to scream and kick and wail. He wanted to throw things, as he had done in Dumbledore's office, breaking them and smashing them. He wanted someone to hate for Sirius's death. And yet, at the same time, he wanted to sit quietly where he was, wallowing in misery, allowing the pain to wash over him. He wanted to sit there and blame himself until the end of time. His heart felt leaden, as though it would never return from his stomach, where it had dropped when Sirius died.  
  
Looking around, Harry's eyes lighted on his broomstick again. He remembered, from before he found out about ghosts, when he had believed in a place called Heaven. Located high above the earth, beyond the sun and stars, it was where people, good people, went when they died. This belief came back to him now. If anyone was deserving of eternal happiness and a life in Heaven, it was Sirius. Maybe, Harry thought, hope rising in him in spite of himself, maybe if I fly high enough I'll find Heaven. Flying wasn't exactly using magic- Ron and his brothers did it all the time on holiday- and he could wear his invisibility cloak. It was big enough to cover his broom, and anyway, what did he care if someone saw him? He was going to find Sirius and he was never coming back.  
  
Harry flung his trunk open and wrapped himself in the invisibility cloak, imagining James and Sirius huddling together under it. Maybe Sirius had once touched the very fabric Harry was touching now. Harry threw open the window, grabbed his broom and mounted it. Without looking back, Harry soared out the open window, feeling his heart growing lighter. He hadn't flown in ages. . . .  
  
Higher and higher he went, feeling the wind rushing past him, watching the houses grow smaller. He was leaving his pain and his sorrow down on the ground and he was going to find Sirius. The air began to get colder and the clouds thinned, but still no sign of Heaven.  
  
"It's got to be here somewhere, it's got to be!" Harry cried, forgetting that he was all alone, not caring that no one could hear him.  
  
"It is, Harry," a voice said, and Harry nearly fell off his broom. But the voice, he realized, had been. . . different. He hadn't heard it. . . . he had felt it, more. And he thought he had recognized it. . . .  
  
"Sirius?" he asked tentatively. And then- "Sirius! Where are you? Are you here? Am I in Heaven yet?"  
  
"Harry." Yes it was him, Harry was sure of it! "Harry, listen to me. You cannot go to Heaven. You cannot find me. You are alive. I am dead. There is a wall between us." Sirius sounded calm, emotionless, and somehow much older.  
  
"No!" Harry cried. "No, there is no wall. I'll- I'll- I'll kill myself! I'll be with you then, Sirius. I want to be with you, not here, not alone!"  
  
"No, Harry," Sirius said, and now Harry recognized sadness, true sorrow in his godfather's voice. "You cannot do that. Please don't, please-"  
  
But before Sirius could say more, Harry swung his legs off of his broom. Eyes blinded by tears and mind clouded with longing, Harry prepared to let go. "I'm coming Sirius, I'm coming!"  
  
"DAMMIT HARRY, I WON'T LET YOU!" Sirius's voice bellowed in his mind. "You cannot! You must live, live for me. There is no one left of the Marauders, no one! Lupin cannot live for me, he can hardly live for himself. Wormtail is a traitor. Your father. . . .Harry, live for your father too. Do what we couldn't, Harry, you must live!"  
  
Harry was shaking. "Sirius?" he called uncertainly, but there was no reply, only silence. "Sirius?" But Harry knew he was gone. Had he ever really been there? Harry didn't know.  
  
"SIRIUS!" he shouted. "SIRIUS, COME BACK! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME HERE, YOU CAN'T!"  
  
But Sirius was gone, and Harry knew that was the last he would hear of him until his own death. The muggles were wrong, they were stupid. There was no Heaven. There was only the archway and the veil and the people behind it. Harry wanted, suddenly, with all his heart, to go through that veil. Sirius was behind it, Sirius was there. But Sirius had also said to live. . . .  
  
Shakily, Harry pulled himself up on his broom. He would live. He would kill Voldemort and then be reunited with Sirius. "Sirius, I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I got you killed. You're a hero Sirius. And I will live for you."  
  
And Harry could've sworn, as he sped back down to Number 4, that he heard a voice whisper "I was wrong, Harry. You fly better than your father ever did." 


	2. Cho's Night

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J.K. Rowling.  
  
A/N: Spoiler warning for OotP! Anyway, I know this chapter is short, but it's the second one in one day, so I hope you appreciate it! Please read and review.  
  
Cho Chang peered at her clock through sleepy eyes. 2:15 a.m. She rolled over, trying various positions, but could not seem to get back to sleep. She didn't need to guess why: a certain messy-haired, green-eyed someone was weighing heavily on her mind.  
  
Why did she always seem to get so angry with him? All she wanted was for him to like her. But Cho thought she knew the answer to that too.  
  
It was because of Cedric. She felt guilty. He had plainly adored her, and she him. But he was dead. People had told her to move on, but Cho couldn't help worrying that she had moved on too much. She couldn't help that she had feelings for Harry so soon after Cedric's death; she just didn't want to admit that she liked him a lot, perhaps more than she had ever liked Cedric. So she looked for the little things Harry did wrong and got angry: angry with herself for liking him so much, angry with Harry for being so likable, and told herself she was angry on Marietta's behalf. Or because Harry didn't want to talk about Cedric.  
  
So Cho distanced herself from Harry. She started going out with Michael Corner, half hoping she could lose her guilt because she wasn't at all serious about Michael, half hoping to make Harry jealous. But it had been obvious to her on the train ride home that it wasn't working; she had looked at Harry, and he at her. She blushed. He didn't.  
  
He had, instead, looked at her almost. . . . .well, not indifferently, not as if he didn't care, but as though he had something much more important to care about now. Another girl? Somehow Cho didn't think so. She had recognized the look in his eyes very well.  
  
It was the one she had worn for a long time after Cedric died.  
  
"Who did you lose, Harry?" Cho whispered quietly. "Did it hurt you? I know it did." A single, silent tear slid down her cheek. She hugged her pillow to her. Why had she gotten so mad at him? He had lost someone, and Cho was willing to bet that the loss was somehow connected to Lord Voldemort. He needed someone, someone who understood what it was like. Someone who understood that one second you need to talk about it and another you just want to be left alone. He needed someone who knew that you had to be angry and sad and scared and alone before you can start to get any better.  
  
He needed her.  
  
And she wasn't there.  
  
Cho knew she could tell him what it was like to be alone and lost and that he would not be like that forever. She knew that she could hold him while he held her, letting him feel strong and yet comforting and protecting him at the same time. She knew that she could love him no matter what.  
  
But he was miles away, alone and heartbroken, thinking she didn't like him. And maybe he didn't like her anymore. Maybe there was nothing she could do. Maybe she had ruined everything for him and for herself that last time she had shouted at him. And maybe she shouldn't be feeling this way at all. Maybe she should turn to her grief and allow it to swallow her. In her sadness there was no confusion. But there was no hope either. And Cho knew that was what she needed. Hope. Hope that Harry was not hurting too badly. Hope that he would someday love her. Hope that he was not lost and alone like she had once been.  
  
"Oh Harry," she whispered in her anguish, the tears flowing now. "I'm so sorry!"  
  
Cho Chang did not sleep that night, or the night after that, or the night after that. Because a certain messy-haired, green-eyed, lost and alone someone was haunting her mind. 


End file.
